


The Insanity Of Mr. Isadora Persano

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [90]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Cornwall, F/M, Justice, M/M, Murder, Rape Aftermath, Revenge, Slow Burn, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Love and romance in distant Cornwall – but dark deeds lie behind a seemingly inexplicable killing that involved the infamous worm that was unknown to science. Sherlock solves the case and offers some medical advice.





	The Insanity Of Mr. Isadora Persano

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VintageFloof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageFloof/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

It is curious that, of the few cases that Watson listed amongst my brother Sherlock's 'failures' were two cases from that same year of 1902, which occurred either side of the case later published as _Shoscombe Old Place_. In fact he solved both of the unpublished investigations, and the reason for the second one being withheld was because of both the royal connection involved and because the two gentlemen had not given their permission, since they then both still lived quietly in the English countryside. Now however they have returned to a colonial possession of the foreign country involved and said that I may indeed tell their tale.

Regrettably but of necessity, this story contains a non-graphic reference to male-on-male rape, for which the perpetrator paid a fitting price.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D._

Our train clanked to a halt with a mournful, almost human sigh at Tavistock Railway Station. We had taken the London and South Western Railway from Waterloo and now faced a carriage ride of about seven miles to Hotspur’s Farm, on the outskirts of the village of Harrowbarrow. There was a station nearer our destination, but it was quicker to alight here and to cut across country.

We had come west to investigate the most strange case of the famous duellist, Mr. Isadora Persano. That young gentleman – he was just turned twenty-five - had just been committed to a local asylum, to the shock of the many who knew him. And since said gentleman was been inconsiderate enough to go mad on English soil and was also a personal friend of King Charles of Portugal, it was imperative that the circumstances of the affair were clarified as soon as possible.  
   
Our hosts were Clesek and Charlotte Trevelyan, an Anglo-Cornish name pairing which I thought appropriate bearing in mind this area between the Tamar and Lynher valleys had changed ownership between England and Cornwall more than once. Also in the house was Mrs. Trevelyan's unmarried brother, Carantok Poldark, who (and I know gentlemen do not usually say such things about other gentlemen) was one of the most beautiful young men upon whom I have ever set eyes. Not handsome, but beautiful. He had an almost wraith-like appearance and I was reminded of the associations between this ancient western land and the fairy folk, the legends of King Arthur, the ancient castle at Tintagel, the....

I shook myself. I really needed to improve my literary choices!  
   
“This is a sad case”, Clesek Trevelyan said, once we had had a bounteous dinner (during which it had been totally uncalled for _someone_ to smirk when I had had to undo a button on my waistcoat). “But it had been coming for some time. At least poor Dory – Mr. Persano – survived.”  
   
That had been the other thing in this case, namely the death of a local landowner Mr. Simon Taylor. He had been the owner of Hingston Hall, the largest house in the district and built by the site of the famous battle of 838 whereby the West Saxons finally broke the Cornish-Viking alliance and the threat from the west. Typically the London press had almost overlooked his passing in favour of covering the exotic foreigner’s attack of madness, such were the vagaries of a modern media.  
   
“I wonder if I might be allowed to visit him in Larnsen”, Carantok Poldark muttered. I looked at him in surprise.  
   
“Where is that?” I asked. I knew the area surprisingly well because one of my more garrulous patients had come from just across the border into Devonshire.  
   
“It’s the town to the north, spelt Laun-ces-ton, but pronounced ‘Larnsen’ in these parts”, his brother-in-law explained. “Doctor Frinton – he was there when it all happened – he had some concerns about the asylum down in Plymouth so chose to take the man there instead. Poor Dory went voluntarily, or at least as voluntarily as someone in his state could.”

“We must see this doctor and obtain his version of events as well”, Holmes said. “Everyone sees things from a different angle so he may have something to add. Pray tell us how it all began.”

Was it my imagination, or did our hosts glance quickly at each other before Clesek Trevelyan spoke?  
   
“Dory is not the sort of person that you can easily ignore”, he said carefully. “He tended to either be liked or hated, and I do not think 'hate' is too strong a word for him. It did not help that he was so open in his indifference towards those whose opinions he did not care for, which only served to further annoy them. I know many will say it was just because he is a foreigner, but there was more too it, although…”  
   
His wife reached a comforting hand across the table to him,  
   
“I think that you should tell our friends _everything_ , Cles”, she said quietly. Her husband nodded, took a deep breath and ploughed on.

“The late Mr. Taylor was a foul man”, he said, “though I suppose that I should not speak ill of the dead. He owned a road which I had to use to access the buildings at the back of the farm, and used that as an excuse to keep coming round here. He, um, he liked Cary.”

They were clearly embarrassed at the way that the conversation had gone.  
   
“I hated him!” Carantok Poldark said firmly, “and I did nothing to encourage him. But he would not take no for an answer.”

“And then Dory happened”, Clesek Trevelyan continued with a sigh. “He made his reputation fighting battles for the oddest of reasons, and for some reason he took it into his head to come to Cary's defence…..”  
   
“One moment”, Holmes said. “There is something missing. How did a famous duellist who is a good friend of the King of Portugal end up visiting somewhere as remote as this locality?”  
   
The looks on all three faces suggested rather that they had been hoping to avoid that question. It was Carantok Poldark who spoke.  
   
“Charlie and I went down to Plymouth to see an exhibition of paintings, which was touring the country from London”, he explained. “I love art. Dory had arrived off the boat from Lisbon and was planning to travel up to Bristol the next day, so he attended the exhibition too. We, um, met.”  
   
I smiled inwardly at the picture. The dashing, gallant young Iberian meeting the ethereally beautiful country bumpkin purely by chance, and being smitten with him. It was all rather charming. I may or may not have sniffed.  
   
“I am to take it that Mr. Persano did not proceed to Bristol as planned?” Holmes asked with a smile.  
   
“It was all right and proper”, Charlotte Trevelyan said, a little defensively. “Isadora is fabulously wealthy, so it was easy for him to rent a cottage in the village and to pursue his suit there. Cary.... liked him.”

“As you can imagine Mr. Taylor did not take well to a rival appearing on the scene, let alone a foreigner”, Clesek Trevelyan said. “He threatened to stop my use of his road which would have greatly inconvenienced us. Three days ago he called round when we were both out, and Cary told him that there could be nothing between them.”

Holmes' eyes narrowed for some reason. He had spotted something in that seemingly straightforward statement, though I had no idea as to what. I did notice however that Carantok Poldark in particular looked most uncomfortable.

“Were you here when he called?” my friend asked.

Again the slight hesitation before Clesek Trevelyan shook his head.

“The whole business has divided the village”, Charlotte Trevelyan said, a little quickly I thought. “Mr. Taylor owned a lot of properties around here and the people who were dependent on him did not like Dory at all. But he could charm the birds from the trees as they say, and those with free will liked him.”

Her brother blushed.

“I told Dory that yes, I did love him”, he said carefully. “That was two days ago. Yesterday he was invited up to the Hall for dinner, which worried me although there were some other guests there as well.”

“Now we approach the meat of the problem”, Holmes said. “Who were they, please?”

“Doctor Frinton, as already mentioned”, Charlotte Trevelyan said. “Mr. Taylor's daughter and heiress to the estate, Miss Clara. Lord Linnaker, the second-most important landowner in the district who was paying court to Miss Clara; the two are all but engaged. And Miss Sally, Mr. Taylor's sister. She is actually co-owner of the estate, but I understand that the rules only allow her to draw an income, not to play any part in the running of affairs, and that she cannot pass on her half of it to anyone. It has to remain in the family.”

“Mr. Holmes needs more than that”, her husband said. “Doctor Frinton is in his sixties, close to retiring if he can find someone to buy out his practice. Miss Clara is seventeen and quite headstrong; like her aunt the estate rules prevent her too from taking part in its affairs, something she very loudly resents. She is only the heiress because there are no more male-line Taylors; if Lord Taylor were to have married and have produced a male heir then she would have been disinherited. And her aunt's income would, I believe, also have been greatly reduced.”

That seemed strange, I thought. Presumably if Mr. Taylor had been able to pursue young Mr. Poldark then there could be no heir, and all those people would benefit from that fact.

“Lord Linnaker is another unpleasant fellow”, Carantok Poldark said with a shudder. “He is just turned eighteen; his father died six years ago and an uncle ran the estate in the meanwhile. He is so full of his own opinions that I am surprised he does not burst the buttons on one of those terrible waistcoats that he wears. And Miss Clara is almost as bad; the two deserve each other!”

“I only know what little I have heard from local gossip about what actually happened at the dinner”, Clesek Trevelyan said. “I think it would be best if you were to approach Doctor Frinton for the details. He is good with facts, and he was actually there.”

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

Although he was friendly enough when we greeted him at his surgery the following day, I thought that I could detect a hint of wariness in the elderly doctor's demeanour. Possibly he was against us having been called in on what he regarded as 'his case'; some doctors were territorial like that.

“It is all very sad”, he said ruefully. “Close communities like this can be wonderful places to live and work, but when you get divisions and arguments they are so much more intense.”

“Please tell us precisely what happened that fateful evening”, Holmes said. The doctor took out a notebook.

“I wrote everything down at the time”, he explained, “because I knew given the circumstances that there would be some sort of investigation. Of course hardly anyone in the village really knew just how famous our Mr. Persano was during his brief stay here, which was probably just as well.”

“Dinner itself passed off uneventfully, after which Lord Linnaker had to leave to meet his brother off the train from Plymouth. That was about seven o'clock; it was just getting dark outside. The rest of us – myself, Mr, Taylor, Mr. Persano, Miss Sally and Miss Clara – adjourned for coffee. Conversations were polite if a little stilted; there was a definite air of tension in the room between our host and Mr. Persano. The ladies adjourned to their own room at half-past seven; the clock was striking the half-hour as they left the room. It must have been shortly before eight that Mr. Taylor asked Mr. Persano if he could discuss something with him. They went to the gun-room, which is next door to the lounge where the rest of us remained.”

I wondered at the doctor letting two men in their position go to a room full of weapons, but said nothing.

“I did think it a little odd that they went there via the corridor rather than using the connecting door”, the doctor said, “especially as the corridor was so cold. The Hall does not heat up very well, being on top of the Down. I think it was less than five minutes later that I heard the sound of a furious argument; I did not look at the clock but it cannot have been more than that. I decided that I had better go and intervene, but two things happened almost simultaneously before I could reach the connecting door. First there was a strange hissing sound from their room, which must have been loud to have penetrated through the wall. It sounded more like gas escaping that an animal noise, I thought. And second, which I thought most odd, _both_ men screamed.”

“Screamed?” Holmes inquired.

“They were definitely screams, I would say of fear”, the doctor said firmly. “I of course ran over to the door; that may have been why they used the corridor to leave as it was dreadfully stiff. I managed to get it open eventually – I do not think I was more than a minute, although I should say that the darkness in both rooms prevented me from seeing anything either side of it, and I entered the room where I noticed several things in quick succession. Mr. Taylor lay dying on the fireside rug, his body bleeding profusely. One look told me that there was no hope for him. There was also a strong and almost acidic smell in the air; it made my eyes water so I made haste to open the window in the room, then opened the door out into the corridor so it could dissipate. The noise had alerted both the ladies from their room across the way as well as some of the servants. I instructed the ladies to return to their room and told Jane, a maid who had just come out of the ladies' room, to fetch the two footmen Edwin and Stephen.”

He paused in his narrative, which allowed me to catch up with my notes.

“I observed two more things as I was rushing about”, he said, “Mr. Persano was sat at the table, a look of complete rapture on his face and a match-box was set before him. And perhaps most importantly of all, the door to the billiard-room on the other side of the room from which I had entered was slightly open. I should add that that room, unlike the one they were in, does possess a balcony.”

“What did you do next?” Holmes asked. 

“I first checked Mr. Taylor to make double sure, but he was all but gone from this world”, the doctor said. “He had been stabbed, almost certainly with the blooded dagger that lay next to him. Then I turned to Mr. Persano who was docile enough, and when the footmen came they took him to another room, Stephen and Edwinremaining with him just in case. I must tell you, gentlemen, that the smile on his face as he left – it terrified me! I sent a maid for the police, Constable Penruth down in the village.”

“Did you examine the match-box?” Holmes asked.

“I did”, the doctor said, “and the contents almost caught me off guard. It was a toy rubber worm, the sort one sometimes finds in Christmas crackers. Someone must have folded it very tightly to fit it into the match-box, possibly as a practical joke as I am sure that it would have sprung out at me, had I not been opening the thing carefully.”

“Not the source of the strange odour, then”, Holmes remarked. The doctor shook his head.

“I think that that had been caused by something thrown into the fire”, he said, scratching his short beard. “That is pure speculation on my part, but I did notice that the smell was stronger when I was examining Mr. Taylor's body next to the fire. If it had not been for the open door to the billiard-room, I would have surmised that Mr. Taylor tried to suffocate Mr. Persano by throwing some toxic chemical on the fire and holding him close to it, only for the gentleman to stab him in self-defence. But that too is pure speculation on my part. I would add one other thing; Mr. Persano does have his own private dagger but that was still on him; I did not recognize the actual murder weapon.”

“Did the constable find anything when he examined the room later?” Holmes asked.

“Nothing in the room”, the doctor said, “but the balcony door out of the billiard-room was unlocked which was strange. I know for a fact that Mr. Taylor had had new locks fitted to all his doors locked after someone broke into one of his out-buildings last year.”

“Were there finger-prints on the dagger?” I asked.

“There were indeed”, the doctor said. “Those of the victim!”

“Most intriguing”, Holmes said. “You are most fortunate, doctor.”

“Pardon?”

“All the other people there that evening had some motive to wish Mr. Taylor out of this world”, Holmes said reasonably, “except for your good self. Mr. Persano to dispose of a rival in his affections, and the dead man's sister and daughter to gain control of their funds. Only you had nothing to gain.” He paused before adding, “seemingly.”

 _How did he do that?_ The doctor blushed fiercely.

“Doctor?” Holmes prodded gently.

“I am sure that your investigations would have unearthed this eventually”, he said ruefully. “Carantok Poldark is my godson, and as I have no children or siblings we are very close. Mr. Taylor had asked me to use that relationship to advance his cause, and I had of course flatly refused.”

“When was that?” Holmes asked.

“Three days before his death.”

Ah.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

Before leaving the house Holmes spoke briefly to one of the house-maids, though he did not tell me what about. We then called on Constable Penruth, who was keen and (like far too many policemen nowadays) depressingly young. 

“I examined the Hall immediately I got there, sirs”, he said, “but it was dark by that time and I could find nothing. I went back at first light the following morning however, and found a set of tracks leading from the billiard-room door to the door in the back garden wall.”

Holmes looked hard at him. The constable sighed. 

“All right”, he said heavily. “As well as the tracks, there were marks as well. That suggested someone walking with a stick, so naturally I thought of the doctor.”

“Or someone who wished to throw suspicion on him”, Holmes said with a smile. “Most interesting. But you found something else too, did you not?”

Damn but he was good!

“I took prints from everyone in the house for the records”, the constable admitted. “At least, that was what I told them. I am sure you know about the dagger, sirs. There was also a set of prints on the door-handle of the billiard-room, so I hoped to match them with the killer, whoever they were.”

“Were they a match?” I asked.

“Oh they were a match all right!” he said heavily. “They were Mr. Taylor's as well!”

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

“This whole thing makes no sense!” I grumbled. “A man invites his love rival into a room, the rival goes mad, the man goes into and out of the next room before stabbing himself, someone from outside gets in and out.... it is incredible!”

“We need to see Mr. Persano”, Holmes said. “And in the circumstances I think that we should not see him alone.”

I looked at him in surprise.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

The following day the two of us, Carantok Poldark and Doctor Frinton took a carriage to Launceston Asylum where after an almost brutal interrogation from a huge Matron we were allowed to see _her_ patient. 

Mr. Isadora Persano was handsome in the classical Iberian way, very different from Carantok Poldark. The Portuguese was dark-haired, hawk-faced, and had an intelligent look about him that made me feel almost fearful. He smiled when he saw the man he loved and kissed his hand, whilst just shaking hands with the rest of us. He did not speak.

“We are here today to discuss the murder of Mr. Simon Taylor”, Holmes said, seating himself at the table with the rest of us. I sat next to him, Mr. Persano was opposite us, and Doctor Frinton and Carantok Poldark sat either side of him.

“Murder?” the doctor questioned. “Not suicide?”

“You should know”, Holmes said quietly. “You were one of the people who killed him.”

I noticed that Carantok Poldark quickly placed a restraining hand on Mr. Persano's wrist. The duellist twitched and glared at us.

“There was one small piece of information that you held back from your story, doctor”, Holmes said. “You did not tell us that when you attended dinner that evening, you took your medical bag with you. My friend here is fond of his profession, but even he does not take his bag to social events. The maid confirmed my suspicion, which clearly showed pre-meditation on your part.”

“Sir....” Doctor Frinton began.

“I know why you did it”, Holmes said, his voice unnaturally loud in the silence of the overly large room. “Because you were not the only one to withhold information in this case. Was he, Mr. Poldark?”

The young man blushed. Mr. Persano wrapped a muscular arm around him and pulled him close, glaring fiercely at us both now. I shuddered at the anger in those dark eyes and wished that I had brought my gun with me.

“I will tell you what actually happened that evening”, Holmes said, “and then I will tell you what I intend to do about it. The doctor's story was true up to the part about the ladies leaving for their own room at half-past seven, but what happened next was very different. Because it involved pre-meditated, cold-blooded murder!”

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

“One of the many advantages of working with a doctor is that one becomes cognisant of certain useful pieces of information. For example, I happen to know that doctors now have access to a new type of cream which can be used to cover scarring quite effectively. The only drawback is that it leaves a strong scent behind it, a mixture of mint and vanilla. It was clear to me very soon after meeting you, Mr. Poldark, that you were using such a cream, yet I saw no reason for it. Just how had you acquired those marks that you were so careful to cover up?”

I winced as I belatedly grasped what Holmes was referring to. Carantok Poldark let out something that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and Mr. Persano somehow contrived to pull him even closer, missing his untidy hair and whispering comfort. I knew not only that the duellist far from insane, but also that he would kill to protect his love. 

“We need not disturb Mr. Poldark any further by dwelling on unpleasant events”, Holmes continued. “It was done, and Mr. Taylor doubtless expected that the man he had so brutally taken to 'come to heel'. Instead the attacker paid for his foul deed with his life.”

“Once the ladies are safely gone, Mr. Persano and Doctor Frinton deal swiftly with Mr Taylor. I would hazard that chloroform was the method used, as they would wish the doomed man to know the reason for his death and to suffer beforehand, as he had made poor Mr. Poldark suffer. The torture – let us call it that, for that is what it was – lasted for half an hour before the stage was set for the _dénouement.”_

“Mr. Persano has already laid a set of tracks to the back wall earlier that day, most likely by arriving a little early and walking around the garden for some fresh air. The time is now eight o'clock, and he and the doctor are ready for the kill. The door to the billiard-room and that room's door outside are both unlocked, which with the tracks will suggest an outside killer. The barely-conscious man is dragged to the door, and his prints placed on the door-handle, further confusing matters. Mr. Taylor is then stabbed with the dagger by Mr. Persano. The weapon goes into the doctor's bag – for who would think of asking to look there? - and a second one, once Mr. Taylor's own prints have been impressed onto it, is inserted into the wound and then placed next to the dying man. Confusion, confusion, confusion!”

“Mr. Persano takes his position at the table, the match-box with a child's toy placed in front of him. Once the doctor is assured that Mr. Taylor is going to bleed to death, he and Mr. Persano both scream out, and moments later he appears at the door of the dead man's room – the room of the man he has just helped to kill. Mr. Persano, who has clearly been driven mad by the fumes from the fire – a chemical kindly supplied by his true love's godfather – is taken away and the house falls silent.”

Carantok Poldark sniffed mournfully.

“And we would do it again for my Cary!” Mr. Persano spoke at last, sounding defiant. “That man was not fit to live!”

“What do you intend to do?” the doctor asked. Holmes rose to his feet.

“Legally, Mr. Taylor was guilty only on a count of rape, serious enough as that is”, he said slowly. “However, it had been made patently clear to him that Mr. Poldark was not his and never would be, and moreover, that he wished to become the love of Mr. Persano. Mr. Taylor chose to ignore that fact, and he paid the due price. Had anyone treated someone that I love in that way – well, they would meet much the same end.”

I wondered at that. I could not somehow associate my friend with the idea of 'love'. I could not know how short a time there was before I would find out just how wrong that belief was.

“Mr. Persano”, Holmes said, “I wish you well for the future. I do advise however that your recovery is not _too_ fast, as people may start to wonder. Perhaps a prolonged stay in a nice, remote Cornish farmhouse might be beneficial to your health?”

He bowed to the three men and left, with me scuttling after him.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩


End file.
